


out damned spot

by mockingb



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Season 1, what the fuck is up with shelby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28482516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingb/pseuds/mockingb
Summary: You know there's something off about thisfuckingisland.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	out damned spot

**Author's Note:**

> A brief character study of Leah Rilke.

You know there’s something off about this _fucking_ island.

Your eyes won’t stop darting back and forth between Shelby and the space where Jeanette would be. Her death hangs like an elephant in the metaphorical room, each of your fingertips dripping with her blood. If you look down, you can almost see her crimson liquid spilling between the cracks in your hands. 

_Out damned spot,_ you think and chuckle to yourself. You push your hair back from your face - nobody’s paying attention to you but it’s okay if they saw you laughing maniacally to yourself - they already think you’re crazy anyway. 

You know you are. You know it’s getting worse. 

Day 16 without your meds because _of course_ they all perished in the crash and _of course_ the one tiny pill you depend on to stay _fucking_ sane wasn’t in the magical bag Shelby found and the spiral of your thoughts is starting to get worse. 

Tighter and tighter and tighter and you’re starting to doubt you can even trust anyone here. _Can you even trust yourself?_

You clutch Nora’s journal and scan the beach. Fatin’s tossing her hair back over her shoulder, her posture impeccable. 

For a second you think maybe - but no, Fatin’s safe. You don’t know how but you know it. 

Martha’s passed out, the little spoon to Marcus and you honestly can’t blame her. She looks comfortable and that’s more than you can say for yourself. 

You start to think about the last time you had your arms around someone - Jeff - and immediately you pinch the skin on the inside of your wrist. _Hard._

We only have time for one obsession right now, you tell yourself. _Fucking focus, you piece of shit._

You shake your head. 

Dot’s tending to the fire, explaining to Nora why she’s using the wood she is. You don’t really care but you also don’t understand why Dot seems to be enjoying herself. 

From what you’ve gathered, you know she’s a survivalist junkie and you’re trying very hard to believe it’s a coincidence that she boarded the plane because nobody else knows the things she does and without her they would be _dead_ by now.

You pause. Dot’s a wildcard. 

Your eyes, shrewd and sharp and hard, spy movement from the corner of your eye. Shelby’s on the beach but what the fuck is Shelby doing on the beach when she was supposed to be helping Rachel and Toni? 

You watch her bend down to inspect the sand _(what the fuck is she doing)_ and she glances back at the beach _(yeah, we’re all watching you, you think)_ and she shifts side to side _(does she have a phone like Jeanette)_ and bends down _(what does she know what does she know what the fuck does she know)---_

You underline Shelby’s name twice. Something’s up with Shelby and you _fucking_ know it. 

x

You stand in the middle of the room, spine rigid and waiting, shoulders braced for impact. The walls feel foreign. The carpet feels foreign. And you feel confined, like a caged animal ready to strike. 

Ever so slowly, you turn your head to the left, your eyes meeting the corner where the wall meets the floor. You pause and trail your gaze up the wall. Your eyes meet the single green laser in the corner of the ceiling. 

_I fucking see you._

They’re watching you and they’re making it pretty damn obvious that’s what they’re doing too. You don’t know why they would do that but the time spent in solitary confinement has allowed your obsessions to run wild. You’re starting to think the omniscient “they” is a bigger problem than you initially suspected. 

If there’s anything this experience has taught you, it’s that you can’t trust anyone. If there’s anything this year has taught you, even before the crash, it’s that you can’t trust anyone but you especially can’t trust the government. 

Seeing Shelby had been surreal. If you’re being honest with yourself, you were starting to doubt their existence - the other girls. _What if you just made them up in your head and you’re such a fucking lunatic you don’t even realize?_

But Shelby’s hand had felt strong and sure and stable against your back. Her gorgeous blond locks were gone - enough of a shock for you to realize she’s real - and you thought there was a metaphor in there about loss of innocence. 

You could tell she knew something as soon as she stepped inside, hobbled on the crutches they gave her. You don’t know what she did to convince them to see her but you have never been so grateful to see another person in your life. 

She didn’t say a word. 

She rubbed her left hand up and down your back while her right hand, imperceptibly, slipped something under your collar and the lightbulb went on in your head.

_Hell yes, Shelby._

She left silently and you absentmindedly wonder if they’ve had to sedate her the way they did you. You think so. She looked like she had been putting up a fight and you’re proud of her. 

The compound they have the girls stationed at has a bathroom in each room. It doesn’t have a door, but it is it’s own room. It’s only a little like prison. 

You think if you’re careful enough about where you stand and how you position yourself - like in that corner wedged right by the trash can - you think they won’t be able to see you on the camera. 

But let’s be honest, at this point, you don’t really care. Shelby already gave you the note and there’s not much they can do to you once you read it. You just hope that you’re careful enough that Shelby doesn’t get caught. 

Very slowly, so as to not make any sudden movement, you unravel the strip of paper. In black ink eyeliner _(Fatin’s, maybe?)_ were three words, underlined twice. 

_You were RIGHT._

You wish you felt more validated but all you feel is intense dread, the knot in your stomach turning and churning tighter and tighter. What the fuck is Shelby going through _(is she okay?)_ and what does she know _(how does she know what she knows?)_ and has she been able to see the other girls _(probably not and does she even know where they are because you sure as hell don’t) --_

You take a deep breath and flush her note. 

You need a game plan.


End file.
